Summary: Twenty exceptional children from across the multiverse
are kidnapped by a mysterious being and forced to take part in a
gladiatorial contest which only one of them can survive.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kenny from the "Highlander" television
series, Jason Todd, the second Robin, from the Batman comics, Josh
Kirby from the "Time Warrior" movie series, Josephine McCormick
from the "Beetleborgs Metallix" television series, Justin Stewart
from the "Power Rangers: Turbo" television series, Solan from the
"Xena: Warrior Princess" television series, Colin, the Anointed
from the "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" television series, this
alternate version of Alexander Rozhenko from the "Star Trek: The
Next Generation" television series, or the planet Tigris from
Madeline's background, which is taken from

Timothy Zahn's novel "A Coming of Age". Basically, if you
recognize a character, I don't own that character. Important! You
do not need to be previously familiar with any of the
characters named above to understand and enjoy my story.

Now I know it seems that a tale with this many cross-over
characters couldn't possibly be worth reading, but since you've
already clicked on it please at least finish this chapter and give
me one chance to prove otherwise.

Credit goes to Zach Mendorra for coming up with the initial
concept and writing some of the Prologue.

Special additional disclaimer: Yes, I am aware of the general
similarity to "Battle Royale" (which is an excellent book). This
story idea was first presented to me several years ago by the
former friend named above; I don't know if he had even heard of
"Battle Royale" at the time. After learning of its existence I did
track it down and, having read the novel, I'm confident that you'll
find my tale differs significantly from Koshun Takami's.

Alternate universe notes: As noted above, the Alexander here is
from an alternate universe, one where he was never raised by the
Rozhenkos; instead he was raised by Worf's brother Kurn, and so is
a much more typical example of Klingon youth. Also, this Jason
Todd was never brought back to life.

Feedback: Feedback of all types, including constructive
criticism, questions and predictions, is most welcome and can be
sent directly to AM83220@aol.com.

Warning: This is without question a dark story. Expect multiple
character deaths and much angst.

PROLOGUE

"Bring forth the prisoner!"

A black-cloaked and hooded figure was escorted through the
throng of booing villagers, his arms held securely by two
burly-looking guards, his hands tied behind him. They led their
prisoner to the large wooden stake which had been erected in the
town square amidst a pile of straw and kindling.

The village magistrate, clutching a foul, flesh-bound book
in his pale, trembling hands, approached the condemned one.

"Thou hast confessed to thy crimes!" the deliverer of
justice proclaimed, his left hand seizing and throwing back the
concealing hood. "Behold, fellow brethren, the devil-spawn's true
face!"

A murmur of horror rushed through the assembled mob,
followed by roars of disgust punctuated with shouts and the waving
of torches. The "devil-spawn" was just a small boy, barely five
feet tall. His face was round with youth, but marred by smallpox
scars and twisted into an expression of purest malice. His eyes
glowed bright yellow in the dark of night and his hair was black
and wavy, just brushing his face.

The boy ignored those holding him and stared at the
magistrate. The fifty-one year-old man was the first to look away,
unable to meet that unnatural gaze. "Tie him!" he ordered
curtly.

The two guards forced the child back against the stake and
freed his hands, only to bind them behind him and above his head,
uncomfortably securing him to his place of punishment.

"Morthos of Northshire, thou hast been found guilty of
witchcraft!" the magistrate began.

"You foolish little peasant!" the young warlock
interrupted, struggling against his bonds. "You think you can harm
me? You are nothing! I will destroy you!"

"Nay, damned one, THOU shalt be destroyed! By the order of
the Town Council, thou must die!"

Before the magistrate could continue a torch came flying
out of the crowd, thrown by the father of Morthos' playmate Sarah .
. . a playmate Morthos had sacrificed to his dark lord.

The torch landed in the straw surrounding the stake and
fear finally broke through the villainous child's arrogance. He
pulled so hard on his bindings that his wrists bled, but the ropes
had been tied tightly and well.

Another torch soon followed, then another, and another,
until a bonfire began to blaze at the child's feet. The heat was
unbearable and Morthos howled in pain as the hem of his robe caught
fire. He screamed out to the one he worshipped for mercy, pleading
for help. Triumphantly the magistrate raised the dark one's cursed
spell book overhead and cast it toward the fire.

As the tome flew toward the flames everything seemed to
slow down. Morthos' cry deepened until he was silent, his hideous
visage contorted in terror. The flames ceased to burn and a final
torch halted in mid-air, hanging in space.

The entire scene was frozen in time, a single second
captured forever.

A white mist began to seep up from the ground. It was
slow-moving, yet within that eternal moment it was the only thing
that did move. It flowed toward Morthos, unhampered by the
apparent stopping of time.

The mist wrapped around the accused warlock, extinguishing
the spurt of flame on his robe. A tendril reached out and passed
over the book, only a heartbeat away from plunging into the
inferno.

In a flash of white light, time resumed its normal course.

The magistrate nodded in satisfaction and relief as the
warlock fell silent, the fire swiftly spreading to his clothes and
skin. He turned back to address his fellow villagers, not noticing
that the book he had thrown into the fire was gone.

ΩΩΩΩ

Josh Kirby was on top of the world!

It seemed like everything was going right for him lately.
His grades were better than ever, his dad had just gotten a
mood-improving raise at work, and not twenty minutes ago he'd
FINALLY been able to use his powers to freeze those jerks Tim and
Gary in time for a few minutes, allowing the bullies' victim to
escape. And he'd done it in secret, without revealing that he was
the one responsible.

It was hard, keeping his Time Warrior powers hidden. He
could bend the time stream to his will, but all he had to do was
think of Irwin 1138 to see how much harm could be caused by
meddling with time. The mad scientist's betrayal still stung Josh
. . . but he liked to think it had taught him a few things too.

After the deaths of Prism, Dr. Zoetrope and Azabeth, Josh
had vowed never to use his powers again. For a while things had
been peaceful. He was able to rest easy in the knowledge that, in
Irwin's timeline, the Supreme Prefect's tyranny was ended and the
people were at last free.

But Josh had grown restless. What was the point of being
one in a billion if he couldn't use his abilities? He wished he
could use his powers to prevent Azabeth's sacrifice, but he knew
that trying to change the past would only bring him grief. Azabeth
had been destined to die, or so she believed, and it had indeed
come to that.

It had been absolutely necessary. Josh had still tried to
stop her from removing her LCD bracelet, but deep down even he knew
it was the only way. Only three LCD bracelets could activate
Zoetrope's improved time machine, which would in turn deliver only
one person to Irwin's lab in the 25th century.

Time had been running out and there were only four of them,
standing six inches high on the floor of the Kirby garage. Josh,
being a Time Warrior, didn't need an LCD bracelet. The others did.

But when Josh looked into those eyes and heard Prism's
voice, giving consent . . . that's when he knew he would never
understand Prism. His fingers had trembled while removing the
bracelet from Prism's neck. And in a flash of light, their odd
little companion was gone.

Then it was Dr. Zoetrope's turn.

Strange, that someone who had so much to live for would
choose death. The man was an egotistical jerk, sure, but he was
also the most brilliant scientist of the 25th century.
Still, defeating Irwin was his life's goal and with the madman's
ultimate victory on the horizon, Zoetrope simply assured Josh that
the Time Warrior would "think of something", took off his LCD
bracelet . . . and that was that.

Last of all was Azabeth.

When she reached for her bracelet, Josh nearly lost it. It
couldn't end like this, not after everything they'd gone through
together. She didn't have to die for a world she would never even
see.

Ultimately, though, they both knew in their hearts there
was no other way to bring their quest to its conclusion. Azabeth's
race had been enslaved and slaughtered, forced to strip-mine their
planet and then eke out a miserable existence in the wasteland they
had created. Azabeth would gladly give her own life to free a
world, even the world of her enslavers, from the boot heel of
tyranny.

So he kissed her, once, and she was gone.

The battle that followed against Irwin in the lab was just
a blur. Josh could barely remember the Zoetrope of that time
coming in afterward and activating the Nullifier. All he could see
was Irwin's armor, shrinking and collapsing as his powers forced it
thousands of years into the future.

His journey over and his friends gone, a desolate Josh had
returned to his own time and had met, to his astonishment,
Elizabeth Kang, a new transfer student who happened to look exactly
like Azabeth, Keeper of the Codes of Kang.

They'd quickly fallen in love, as if they'd known each other
forever. As far as Josh was concerned, though, Elizabeth was
not Azabeth. They looked the same, but Josh remembered
Azabeth's bitterness, a result of her life as a half-breed outcast
among her own people. That bitterness made her determined to
change things and that was something Elizabeth simply didn't
possess. Azabeth had sacrificed her honor and her freedom just to
keep Josh alive. Elizabeth would never be able to do that.

Still, Elizabeth was everything that Azabeth wanted to be:
beautiful, graceful, and most of all, accepted. And, by Josh at
least, she was loved.

The blond boy tried to banish these thoughts. He didn't
like dwelling on his adventures through time for too long. There
had been some great moments, but in the long run, he could easily
wish none of it had ever happened at all.

A voice calling out his name shook Josh from his grim
musings. Looking up, he saw Elizabeth Kang waving at him from the
other side of the street, a big smile on her face.

Smiling back, Josh swerved his bike in her direction,
pedaling hard as he crossed the road.

The distinct sound of squealing tires was his only
warning.

And it wasn't enough.

Josh instinctively reached out to stop time . . . and
belatedly realized that the twelve hours needed to recharge his
powers had not yet passed.

The Time Warrior was out of time.

Yet as the car came hurtling toward him it unaccountably
slowed and stopped. Elizabeth's panicked scream trailed off into
silence. A shimmering rift opened above Josh and he rose up into
it from his ten-speed, only to reemerge almost immediately,
floating back down to the same position.

The late model Buick slammed into the bicycle and the
teenager, catapulting both into the air.

"JOSH!" Elizabeth cried as her boyfriend hit the pavement
with a sickening thud. She ran out into the street, dropping to
her knees beside him. Blood caked his mouth and his blue-green
eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky. Elizabeth checked for a
pulse and her eyes went wide when she couldn't find one.

"Noooooo!" she wept, burying her face in his chest.

ΩΩΩΩ

When this is over, you be packed and ready to go.

Xena's words played over and over again in Solan's mind as
he hurriedly grabbed his few belongings and stuffed them into his
rucksack.

Despite the fact that he should be utterly terrified,
despite the fact that Kaleipus, the only family he'd ever known,
was gone, Solan had never been happier.

When this is over, you be packed and ready to go.

His friend Xena had promised him that when the crisis was
ended, when she defeated Callisto, she'd come back for him. And
they'd be together. Xena, Gabrielle and him. A family.

It was hard to believe that he'd once hated her, once taken
up his father's sword against her, blaming her for the death of his
parents. But that Xena was long gone and this one was nothing less
than a second mother to him.

When this is over, you be packed and ready to go.

He didn't want to stay here anymore. There was nothing
left for him. Just a few people who felt they owed it to Kaleipus
to look after his "son". But they didn't feel real to Solan, not
the way Xena did. She was the only one he trusted, the only one
who didn't treat him like a baby. She saw things in a different
way than Kaleipus had and she was really smart.

The door to the hut swung open.

"I'm almost ready!" Solan called, wondering how Xena had
been able to defeat Callisto so quickly.

"Solan?" a young voice asked.

The long-haired boy froze, looking up at the doorway.
Standing there was a little girl, a few years younger than him.
She had strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to
shine in the darkness.

When this is over, you be packed and ready to go.

"That's right," he responded cautiously. He never seen
this girl before . . . yet she couldn't have arrived at the village
after Xena, or Kaleipus would have mentioned her.

The girl smiled and there was something in her expression
that chilled Solan to the bone.

"Safest place there is," she said, as if she were quoting
someone.

Before Solan could ponder the meaning of those words the
girl narrowed her eyes at him . . . and suddenly it felt like he
was being strangled.

Shock rooted him to the spot, his mind awhirl as he fought
for oxygen. His hands scrambled frantically at his throat, seeking
to break the suffocating grasp, but there was nothing physical
holding his windpipe closed. The girl strolled slowly toward him,
keeping her icy gaze locked on him.

She was doing this! He stumbled forward to attack her, to
stop her, his fingers closing around her throat. In response she
shoved him in the chest and though her strength was no greater than
one would expect he was already weak from lack of air. He tumbled
backward, slamming painfully against the altar. Spots danced about
his darkening field of vision and Solan realized he was about to
lose consciousness. He reached out for something, anything, but
there was no escape.

He had time for one last thought,

When this is over . . .

And he fell still.

As Hope turned to leave, satisfied with her work, she
suddenly froze in place.

A portal opened beneath Solan and he soundlessly fell
through it.

Hope turned back around, unable to shake the feeling that
something was wrong, but Solan was lying dead just where she had
left him.

Chuckling evilly, the Daughter of Dahak departed.

ΩΩΩΩ

Hell had broken loose. And Justin Stewart was right in the
middle of it.

The day had started off normally enough. His dad had gone
into the office to get some work done so Justin had flipped on the
television. A live news report interrupted the Saturday morning
cartoons, saying that Angel Grove was under massive alien
attack.

His first thought had been to try to contact the Astro
Rangers, but he quickly shook it off. They still treated him like
a little kid. He told them after the last time that he would
always be there for them, but either they hadn't taken him
seriously or they just didn't think they needed his help. The
destruction on the screen, however, showed that the people of Angel
Grove needed all the help they could get.

Going upstairs to his dresser the brown-haired teen took
out his Turbo key. It wasn't really his; it had actually belonged
to his Eltarian android duplicate. The androids had been destroyed
when Dark Specter conquered Eltar, but Storm Blaster had somehow
managed to smuggle the Turbo Key away. It was identical to his own
Key, which lay drained somewhere in the ruins of the Power Chamber.

"Shift into Turbo!" Justin shouted, thrusting his key into
the device that materialized on his wrist and turning it firmly.
The Power enveloped him and he grew to his adult height of six foot
two. Using his communicator he called Storm Blaster and explained
the situation. The sentient Jeep arrived at his house in mere
moments and got him to Angel Grove in record time. They raced into
the outskirts of the city, ready for anything.

Or so Justin thought.

The news reports had said "massive attack", but even the
pictures shown hadn't truly conveyed the extent of the devastation.
Everywhere he looked there were panicking civilians, ruined cars
and flaming buildings. Small fighters were roaring through the
city, shooting at people and vehicles.

There seemed to be an entire legion of enemy troops on the
ground. Quantrons, Ashley had called them once. They were
supposed to be tougher than Piranhatrons or Chromites.

Justin used his Hand Blasters to gun down the first group
that assaulted him, but when a near-miss almost took a screaming
woman's head off he put his guns away. With all of the fleeing
people choking the streets it was just too risky for him to use his
laser weaponry. His only option was to take these robots out the
old-fashioned way.

Dismounting from Storm Blaster and ordering it to ferry as
many people as it could to safety, the Blue Ranger called up his
Turbo Blade and threw himself into the fray.

Justin had never really liked fighting with swords. Tommy
had been the genius in that area and now Justin wished he'd paid
closer attention to his former leader's lessons.

He managed to cut down Quantron after Quantron, but their
numbers never seemed to lessen. Nor did they tire, something the
Turbo Ranger soon wished he could say about himself. Only the
occasional glimpse of Storm Blaster speeding through the streets
and loaded with civilians gave him the strength to fight on.

It took him half an hour to clear 5th Street and
Justin couldn't help sighing at the sight of a new trio of
Quantrons turning the corner and advancing toward him. He wearily
readied his Turbo Blade, preparing to meet their charge. As they
approached one of the fighters swooped low over them and blasted
the blue-clad defender with its cannons.

Justin went flying back into the rubble-strewn avenue, his
morph falling away from him in a shower of sparks. He was just a
human again, and an exhausted one at that.

The three Quantrons loomed above him. The middle one raised
its sword overhead and brought the weapon down on the fourteen
year-old. Before the implement of death could touch the boy's
flesh, however, time came to an abrupt halt. Two tentacles emerged
seamlessly from the ground on the left and right. They wrapped
around the frozen child's waist and pulled him down through the
asphalt, which gave way like water. Then Justin rose back up from
the ground.

The Quantron's blade split the boy's skull in two. Leaving
the corpse behind the robots continued on their path, conquering
all in the name of Dark Specter and Queen Astronema.

ΩΩΩΩ

"You failed!" the Colin, the Anointed, hissed. Worse, the
upstart had failed and survived! Colin had been relying
on at least one of them perishing, if not both. It hadn't occurred
to him that this rebellious newcomer might fail to kill the Slayer
and yet still avoid dying.

The blond vampire called William the Bloody, better known
by his nickname Spike, dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "I,
uh . . . I offer penance," he said, with a distinct lack of
sincerity.

Gregory shouted, "Penance? You should lay down your life!
Our numbers are depleted; the feast of St. Vigious has been ruined
by your impatience!"

Spike looked from Gregory to Colin, sitting on his throne.

"I was rash," Spike agreed, nodding slightly. "And if I
had to do it all over again-" He suddenly broke into evil
laughter. "Who am I kidding?"

The vampire rose to his feet, eyes blazing, and Colin felt
a tremor of fear go through him. "I would do it EXACTLY the same,
only I'd do THIS first!"

As Spike roughly carried the Anointed to the cage hanging
nearby Gregory attacked him, only to be kicked back and knocked
out. The useless fool! If Absalom were still here this wouldn't
be happening!

Shoving Colin into the cage, Spike slammed and locked the
door. The he began pulling on the chain, lifting the cage up from
the floor toward the early morning sunlight streaming in above from
the warehouse's broken window.

"From now on, we're gonna have a little less ritual," he
vowed as he pulled on the chain, "and a little more fun!"

With a final tug Spike hoisted the cage up into the
sunlight.

A bare instant before Colin would have burst into flame and
ash, only split seconds after a scream escaped his lips, he
disappeared without combusting. No one noticed, as charred residue
still drifted down to the floor of the cage.

Satisfied with his work, Spike strolled over to his insane
vampire lover, Drusilla, and took her hands.

"Let's see what's on T.V." he suggested.

ΩΩΩΩ

Kenny had been with his newest guardian for two weeks now,
long enough to realize that this warm Friday afternoon was the
right time to kill her. Her stupid boyfriend was at work and they
were alone in her large, Victorian style house. She was in the
studio painting and wouldn't see him enter; the front of her easel
faced the doorway. Even when she sensed him, he doubted she would
turn around. He had taken special note of how focused she was
while she was working.

Yes, the circumstances were as perfect as he could
reasonably expect. His decision made the eight hundred and
twenty-year old reached into his backpack and brought out the short
sword he had hidden there. Like him, Anne was an Immortal. She
didn't age, didn't get sick and would heal with miraculous speed
from virtually any injury. She would even return to life after
being killed - - unless her head was cut off. Then she would truly
die and her power would be transferred to the Immortal who had
slain her in a violent maelstrom known as a Quickening.

Since the beginning of time Immortals had dueled with each
other, seeking to win the Prize that awaited the last among them.
Kenny had never fought a traditional Immortal duel and he never
intended to. His first death had been at the hands of sadistic
Normans when he was only twelve years old and since then he had
remained trapped in his unchanging child's body. He would never
grow any further, would never have the size and strength of an
adult. He couldn't compete in the Game as other Immortals did, but
his first guardian had taught him a different way to fight.

Kenny kept a cautious eye out for Anne as he descended the
stairs, his blade held at his side. Though he needed a sword, his
appearance had always been his real weapon. With his light blond
hair and crystal blue eyes he was the picture of innocence. Those
Immortals who still deluded themselves about the Game were always
quick to approach him and happy to swallow his tearful tale of how
he had died a year ago in a car accident and had been on the run
ever since. They took him into their homes and promised to help
him. A long, long time ago he had been foolish enough to believe
such promises. Now he knew better.

No Immortal could be trusted. His kind was engaged in an
unceasing battle to the death. In the end there could be only one
and eventually every Immortal realized that basic truth. He had
known it for centuries and had been making his own way to the
Prize, one head at a time.

A pang of hunger shot through Kenny when he reached the
studio door. It was lunchtime, but he didn't way to delay this any
further. Besides, he would have to get used to missing meals
again. Life on the road was hard for an apparent kid, even one
with his cunning and experience.

His sword held tightly in both hands, Kenny silently
entered the large, airy room that served as Anne's "office".
Circular windows set high in the far wall cast down beams of
radiance, crowning the picture window which dominated the chamber.
The otherwise Spartan walls were hung with Anne's past creations.
Together they made for a panorama of bucolic splendor which vaguely
reminded Kenny of the England of his youth.

Anne Winslow was almost directly ahead, her back to him as
she labored at her latest work. She was a short, willowy woman
with auburn hair and a pretty face who looked to be in her early
thirties. She had been living under her current identity for the
last twenty years and had told Kenny wistfully that the time was
coming when it would be best for her to disappear and reappear
elsewhere under a different name. She had assured Kenny she would
take him with her and she wanted her boyfriend Robert to accompany
them as well. Robert knew of her Immortality and understood her
need to leave, though he was loath to abandon his own job with
McKenzie, Hackett and Shane.

The thought of Robert made Kenny scowl as he slipped toward
his target. He had done his best to drive the man away. He had
even attempted to play on the tension between them over Anne's
planned departure. Nothing had worked. After he took care of
Anne, Robert would be next. If not for him he could have taken
Anne's head days ago!

Anne sensed him approaching, feeling the peculiar tingle
that warned Immortals of each other's presence, but she continued
to daub at the canvas in front of her.

"I'll have lunch for you in a minute, Kenny. How does
hamburgers and fries sound?" she asked.

Half a second later her half-finished landscape was
splattered with a warm spray of arterial blood.

Licking his lips, Kenny readied himself for the mixture of
agony and ecstasy that a Quickening entailed. Lightning flickered
around the room, setting several painting alight. The windows blew
outward in a shower of glass and the jars of paint went off like
bombs. Kenny screamed his throat raw as power flowed into him and
the familiar sensations ravaged his body. Finally he dropped to
the floor, panting and drained.

In his exhaustion he didn't at first recognize the voice,
but the words were clear.

"Anne! My God, Anne!"

Rolling over Kenny saw Robert Venders at the door, his eyes
wide with horror and disbelief. What the hell was he doing here!?!
He was supposed to be at his office! Kenny tried to think of what
to say to the man. Could he blame this on another Immortal, an
intruder who had already fled? He opened his mouth to do just
that, but Robert's gaze had already gone from Anne's body, to Kenny
. . . to the bloodied short sword he had dropped next to her.

A look of such fury slipped onto Robert's face that for the
first time in decades Kenny found himself frightened of a mortal.
He lunged for his sword, but Robert was already moving and his shoe
caught Kenny's head in a terrific blow. Semiconscious, he felt the
sword being wrenched away from him. He looked up to see Robert
drawing the blade back like a baseball bat. Screaming in denial
Kenny threw his arms up in front of his face, knowing it wouldn't
be enough. The sword swept down, slowing to a stop when it was
halfway to the boy.

A shimmering appeared in the air above Kenny, coalescing
into a plane of light which swept down through him before
vanishing. The interrupted motion resumed and the scything blade
sheared through the child's wrists and neck.

Kenny's death brought no second, undirected Quickening, no
further release of immortal power. If he had been thinking clearly
Robert would have recognized the discrepancy. But standing over
the corpses of the woman he had loved and her murderer, holding the
sword which had killed them both, he couldn't even think of what to
tell the police when they arrived.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Josephine McCormick (Jo to everyone but her teachers and
mother) was both fiercely excited and more than a little sad. This
was it, the day she, her brother Drew and his best friend Roland
had been working toward for so long. They were finally going to
defeat the Crustaceans!

They'd been gaining the upper hand for a while now. When
Mega-Nukus lost control of Boron the balance of power had shifted
decisively against him; and when Les Fortunes, the cartoonist who
had created him, had voluntarily returned to prison the evil
mastermind had lost his source of monsters

The one stumbling block had been the fact that Mega-Nukus
had destroyed the paper he originated from, leaving them nowhere to
send him back to. Their willing sacrifice of their Mega Spectra
powers, however, had allowed Flabber, Art and Les Fortunes to
create a single copy of a special edition comic to which they could
banish the Crustaceans.

Somehow Mega-Nukus had learned of the comic's creation and
he had launched an assault on Hillhurst with all of his remaining
forces in an attempt to destroy it. The battle had been terrific,
especially now that none of them could match Mega-Nukus' raw power.
In the end, though, the combination of the Beetleborgs,
Astralborgs, Boron and Roboborg had been too much for the
super-villain. He and his two lieutenants, Horribelle and Vilor,
had been badly beaten and had fled. The rest of his army had been
utterly destroyed.

Drew had insisted that they needed to finish Mega-Nukus
while he was still weak; they couldn't afford to wait and give him
time to recover. Leaving the Astralborgs to guard the precious
comic, the Beetleborgs had mounted their Sector Cycles and raced
out to the cemetery, on the theory that the Crustaceans would have
fled to their home base. Neither Boron nor Roboborg would fit into
the Crustaceans' underground lair, so Drew had ordered them to
guard the entrance and blast any Crustacean that tried to escape.
The three of them had then descended into their enemy's final
redoubt. Soon Mega-Nukus would be nothing more than a memory and a
flashy illustration.

Sadly, he would take their Beetleborg powers with him when
he went. Without Mega-Nukus the spell which allowed Jo, Drew and
Roland to become their favorite comic book characters would fail
and they would just be ordinary kids again.

Jo was going to miss being a Beetleborg. She would miss
the rush of transforming, the excitement of battling Mega-Nukus and
his followers, and the thrill of victory! She would especially
miss the super-strength she had gained as an unexpected side effect
of the magic. That little bonus had come in very handy for the
thirteen year-old tomboy, and its loss was something to mourn.

Nonetheless this was the way things had to be, and if Jo was
sorry their adventures were coming to an end, she was glad to have
had them in the first place. Head held high, the Platinum Purple
Beetleborg stepped forward, with her Chromium Gold brother to her
right and their Titanium Silver friend on Drew's left. Before
them, at the far end of the cavern, were Mega-Nukus and his last
two minions.

"It's over, Mega-Nukus" Drew announced confidently.

"Yes, for you!" the cornered creature snarled. He lunged
forward, his flaming scarlet scimitar clashing against Drew's
Metallix Lancer. The ichthyoidal Vilor followed his master's lead,
thrusting his trident at Roland's head. The tall black boy dodged
aside and struck back with his Metallix Grappler. Jo herself was
left to face the insectile Horribelle.

An overhand chop with her Metallix Baton was blocked by her
foe's right sword. Horribelle's answering riposte with her left
blade cut across Jo's midsection, raising sparks from the
inch-thick metallic armor which encased the girl.

Staggering a little, Jo cut loose with a kick to the
stomach. Horribelle doubled over and Jo brought her right knee up
into her opponent's face, simultaneously using her Baton to knock
the sword out of the villainess' left hand.

Reeling back Horribelle spat a stream of green liquid
across Jo's visor, completely cutting off her vision. She wiped
frantically at it with her left hand, but the substance clung
tenaciously to her helmet. Horribelle was about to strike and the
Jo couldn't even see to defend herself!

Thinking quickly she did a forward sweep with her right leg
and toppled the surprised Horribelle. Dropping to her knees Jo
slammed her Metallix Baton down into the space in front of her and
was rewarded with a groan. She hit again and again at her
prostrate foe, the speed and power of her blows more than
compensating for their lack of accuracy.

The gunk coating her eye-slits vanished with Horribelle,
doubtless reappearing as a drawing on the printed pages of the new
comic. Jo sighed in relief and looked around to see how Drew and
Roland were doing. Titanium Silver appeared to be holding his own
against Vilor, while her brother's futuristic pike was definitely
giving Mega-Nukus problems.

Jo moved to flank the evil overlord, her weapon at the
ready. Seeing her approach Mega-Nukus' desperation at last began
to show. With a curse he unleashed a point-blank energy blast into
Drew. Her sibling was knocked to the floor, his golden breastplate
scorched and blackened.

"Drew!" she cried and threw herself at Mega-Nukus. She
slashed at his tri-horned head with her Baton, but he ducked her
swing. To one side she could see Drew struggling to his feet. She
realized with relief that Mega-Nukus' blast must not have been
strong enough to breach her brother's armor. In that instant of
distraction Mega-Nukus seized her Baton and yanked her toward him.

Off balance Jo started to tumble and stopped in mid-air,
her body tilted at an impossible angle. A cocoon of white radiance
formed around her, shrinking to mold itself to her form and seeming
to seep through her armor.

Her momentum returned and the Platinum Purple Beetleborg
was impaled on Mega-Nukus' enchanted scimitar, the tip penetrating
far enough to pierce her heart.

The kids had assumed they were living out an
action-adventure story, like in the comics they loved. It had
never occurred to any of them that their tale might actually be a
tragedy.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Comparable scenes played out in numerous other realities.
In all twenty apparent children were snatched away from the brink
of death. Mindless simulacrums, genetically indistinguishable from
the originals, perished in their place. No one on any of the
nineteen worlds involved suspected a switch had been made. The
"deceased" were grieved for, or not, and their bodies appropriately
disposed of.

The being responsible for their abduction took his prizes
to the location he had prepared for them. They all awoke at the
same instant to find themselves seated around a large, circular
table. It was made of solid oak and the chairs they sat in were
ornately carved cherry wood. The room itself was little larger
than the table, its surfaces consisting of a luminous white
substance which gave off ample light.

There were no doors.

The kids looked about in bewilderment, none of them knowing
where they were nor recognizing any of the others. As the
inevitable questions began they were interrupted by an oddly
resonant, electronic-sounding voice.

"GREETINGS, CONTESTANTS! BE AT PEACE; YOU ARE
IN NO DANGER AT PRESENT. BY MY HAND EACH OF YOU WAS SAVED FROM THE
DEATH WHICH AWAITED YOU IN YOUR OWN WORLD AND BROUGHT HERE, SO THAT
YOU MIGHT FIGHT FOR YOUR LIVES! I AM YOUR HOST AND SAVIOR, BUT
YOU MAY ADDRESS ME SIMPLY AS ARCHON, THE OVERSEER OF THIS
TOURNAMENT.

THE PREMISE OF MY CONTEST IS SIMPLE: THE SURVIVAL OF
THE FITTEST. TOGETHER WE WILL DISCOVER WHO AMONG YOU IS THE MOST
WORTHY OF CONTINUED EXISTENCE. EVERY DAY AFTER BREAKFAST I WILL
SEND YOU TO THE BATTLEFIELD, A VARYING ENVIRONMENT OF MY OWN
CREATION. THERE YOU WILL ENCOUNTER AND STRIVE AGAINST EACH OTHER
IN MORTAL COMBAT. EIGHT HOURS LATER THOSE STILL LIVING WILL BE
RETURNED HERE FOR SUSTENANCE AND REST. THIS WILL CONTINUE UNTIL
ONLY ONE OF YOU REMAINS, AND THAT ONE WILL WIN HIS OR HER
FREEDOM.

NATURALLY I WISH THE COMPETITION TO BE A FAIR ONE. I
HAVE THEREFORE GIVEN YOU THE EQUIVALENT OF A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP,
HEALED THOSE OF YOU WHO WERE INJURED AND ARRANGED FOR YOU TO BE
ABLE TO COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER IN SPITE OF YOUR DIFFERING
LANGUAGES. I HAVE TAKEN CARE TO ENSURE THAT YOU ARE ON EQUAL
FOOTING, SEPARATED ONLY BY YOUR OWN SKILLS AND ABILITIES.

SOON YOUR STRUGGLE WILL COMMENCE. FIRST, HOWEVER, YOU
MAY HAVE YOUR BREAKFAST. EAT HEARTY; FOR SOME OF YOU THIS WILL
SURELY BE YOUR LAST MEAL."

Fine china, polished silverware and elegant crystal goblets
appeared on the table before the twenty. The individual plates and
bowls held the favored breakfast food of each child, while the
goblets were filled near to the brim with their recipient's
preferred beverage.

For a long moment dead silence reigned in the chamber.
Then the majority of the kids erupted in a cacophony of shouted
queries and protests.

"You gotta be kidding!"

"Only ONE?!?"

"Why are you doing this?!?"

"How dare you-"

"You can't-"

"I won't-"

"What-"

This time Archon's voice was deafeningly loud.

"I WILL NOT BE PLAGUED WITH QUESTIONS, NOR DOES THIS
INGRATITUDE PLEASE ME! I HAD EXPECTED BETTER FROM SUCH A
SELECT GROUP OF YOUNG WARRIORS."

At this a long-haired blond boy, dressed in a rough vest
and boots of skin, opened his mouth as though to speak, but Archon
allowed him no opening to interject, continuing on without pause.

"THOSE WHO DO NOT WISH TO SEIZE THIS OPPORTUNITY WILL
UNDOUBTEDLY FIND THAT OTHERS AMONG YOU ARE LESS RELUCTANT. PERHAPS
THEY WILL GRANT YOU THE MERCY OF A QUICK DEATH.

PERHAPS NOT.

NOW I SUGGEST YOU FINISH YOUR MEAL. YOU WILL NEED THE
ENERGY."

No one moved. Then the only obvious non-human, a
male with rough brown skin, coal-black hair and a heavily-ridged
forehead, glanced disdainfully around him and deliberately tipped
his glass of blood wine over. A dark-haired adolescent in an
outrageously colorful red, yellow and green costume with a black
eyehole mask followed up by smashing his own plate to the floor.

"VERY WELL," Archon sighed, his voice at a
conversational volume again. "WE SHALL START AT ONCE IF THAT
IS YOUR DESIRE. GOOD LUCK!"